Today, I noticed a scar on my leg that I haven’t looked at or thought about in years.  I got it when I was six and had a birthmark removed.  I immediately remembered being on the table in the office– the smell of cauterized skin, the stinging pain, the doctor’s comforting words: “Shut up, kid.”  I was yelling.  I remember thinking he was being awfully mean to a six-year-old, but that it was okay.  After it was all over, I had a Koosa to look forward to.  A Koosa wearing turquoise shorts.

This is what I thought about– when I was six years old.